


Photogenic

by VashWritingPro



Series: Of Love, Passion, and Two Really Old Idiots [3]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Anal Sex, Artist Steve Rogers, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Gets a Hug, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes and the 21st Century, Bucky Barnes is a dumb fuck, Bucky Barnes-centric, Bucky’s Mans, Established Relationship, Fisting, Flirting, Gay, Gay Bucky Barnes, Gay Sex, Gay Steve Rogers, Grinding, Jealous Bucky Barnes, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Model Steve Rogers, Oblivious Steve Rogers, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Steve Rogers, Pining, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Steve Rogers is a gorgeous man, Stucky - Freeform, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 05:43:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18515080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VashWritingPro/pseuds/VashWritingPro
Summary: The first time Steve got the request, he was dumbfounded.Him? A model? It was laughable.But, as it turned out, apparently blonde hair, blue eyes and a sour expression were exactly what the media wanted.—x—x—Aka, Steve is featured in a few magazines and Bucky likes it a little too much.—x—x—Featuring!A man-candy hunk of a gentleman, Steve RogersAn ape-ish hermit, Bucky BarnesAnd a lovely agency that manages to give Bucky something to do with himself when Steve’s not around!





	1. Steeb

The first time Steve got the request, he was dumbfounded.

Him? A model? It was laughable.

But, as it turned out, apparently blonde hair, blue eyes and a sour expression were exactly what the media wanted. He didn’t quite believe it at first, figuring that there were plenty of other people in the world who were prettier than him, but when he pointed this out to the agent assigned to signing him on, she just laughed out loud.

“Trust me, Captain Rogers. I know girls who would kill to know you, and I know men who would kill to look like you. You’ve got exactly what we’re looking for.”

And that sealed the deal.

Steve figured that once couldn’t hurt. After all, getting his picture taken wasn’t that hard.

Oh, how wrong had he been.

The moment he walked into the studio, he was being swarmed by people. Hands grabbed at his shoulders and wrists and he was pulled in every which direction, shoved into changing rooms with clothes, thrown into chairs only to have weird substances dabbed all over his face, and it was only once everything had settled down that he had a chance to catch his breath.

The hair stylist was actually very nice. His name was Jack, and he was nowhere near as tolerant towards all of the hustle-bustle as everyone else seemed to be.

“Get away! Pure talent is at work here!” The man shouted, clapping his hands together sharply. Reporters and attendants as well as the occasional smitten staff member grumbled but gave Steve some space to breathe, and he relaxed in his chair, letting the air puff out of his chest with his eyes fluttering shut.

“Thank you,” Steve said after a few moments of quiet but for the distant rumble of voices and the tinkering of Jack’s materials. “This has been a lot more stressful than I thought it was gonna to be.” Jack snorted, tossing one of the barbershop capes around Steve’s front and clipping it at the back of his neck. He wet his hands in a nearby sink and ran them through the blonde’s hair a few times in order to dampen it.

“I’m telling you, Steve— Can I call you Steve?”

“Sure,” Steve replied, smiling a bit. It had been a while since anyone aside from his close friends had called him anything other than Captain Rogers, or Mr. America, or whatever other crazy names he had. “Be my guest.”

“Well, Steve, I see people coming in here all the time hiding behind some bright smile, or stoic expression— They get in front of that camera and they put on a real show.” Jack gelled Steve’s hair up, and the supersoldier had a feeling that this wasn’t supposed to take as long as it perhaps was going to, but he didn’t mind. It was a nice change of pace from the hectic experience he’d had thus far.

“Oh yeah? And what about in front of the mirror?” Steve asked curiously, glancing up at the reflective surface and meeting Jack’s gaze steadily. The man looked back, grows furrowing as a strange smile tugged at his lips. His hands paused, fingers still tangled in the golden locks atop Steve’s head as he pondered the question.

“It’s like I don’t even recognize them,” the man replied softly, before looking away and finishing up with a quick spritz of hairspray. “Alright, Stevie, you’re walking away a new man.” He pulled the cape away with a flourish, and Steve got to his feet, resisting the urge to touch his freshly-done hairstyle.

“Just make sure you come back the same guy. You’re a pretty one.” Jack’s smile was a bit softer now, and Steve felt his cheeks heat up with slight embarrassment, though he wasn’t sure it was visible through all of the guck on his face.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, casting a meaningful look at the hairdresser. “I’ll be sure to tell my fella you think so.” Jack’s eyes fell to his hands, and he almost seemed embarrassed.

“Right,” the man said, coughing awkwardly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Steve replied, grinning. “I think he’ll appreciate you for tellin’ me so.” Jeff seemed to relax a bit, and Steve didn’t turn around until his real smile was returning and he waved goodbye. Satisfied, Steve headed off in the direction of his photographer.

The area was clearly marked by the fact that it was a solid white wall against the more grey-ish wire-filled room surrounding it.

The director made quick work of the preparations, calling makeup for the finishing touches on Steve’s face and the props director to set a stool down with much more precision than Steve thought necessary. He was an artist, but even he knew that if something felt too staged, it wasn’t going to look right.

When he finally settled in his first pose as instructed by his photographer, he felt a little uncomfortable. Eyes stared at him from every direction. It wasn’t something he was unused to, people watched him every single day, but he somehow felt small around all of these people with their large opinions. He chewed nervously on his lower lip, feeling his brow furrows as he tried to work out a facial expression—

Click.

There was a flash of light that had him startled. He jumped a little bit, eyes widening, and he watched the director give him an encouraging smile. Steve was shocked. That was the kind of thing they were looking for? All he had to do was make some face as though he was thinking hard, and they thought it was gold? Bucky always told him he looked constipated when he was thinking. If that was the sort of thing people liked, then Steve guessed that they were in luck today.

After that, things started to come more smoothly. He did pull a few weird expressions, which never failed to rouse a light chuckle in the crowd, but for the most part, things were a lot quieter than he expected. At some points they would give him extra accessories, or change the position of his chair, or his hands. Then they had him standing for a while. Sometimes they would get him laughing at something one of the people on the side said, but for the most part, it was those odd, slightly serious expressions. Steve had a feeling that they came naturally to him, because sometimes the flash would go off while he was simply standing there and waiting for his next instruction.

It felt like they must have taken a hundred pictures when they finally wrapped it up. Steve was allowed to bring the clothes home, and they gave him his original outfit back, providing wipes to get the makeup off of his face. He used a generous amount, scrubbing until they came away just as white as they had been when he pulled them out of the package. He had used at least two or three on each ear alone. It was fascinating, and yet, he couldn’t wait to go home and take a shower. A cooped up and restless part of him wondered if perhaps a certain someone would be in the mood to join him.

There was only one way to find out.

He exchanged words with the director who told him that they would keep him posted on the editing and production of the magazine in which he would be covering. He shared goodbyes with the staff, casting a particularly wide smile at Jack, who seemed to shake his head and chuckle softly.

The train ride home was just as loud as the first half hour inside the building had been, but Steve tried not to mind. He knew who was waiting for him at home, and he was more than willing to take a few quick selfies as long as it didn’t take him any longer to reach his destination.

He ended up arriving five minutes later than promised.

Rapping his knuckles against the door as he entered, Steve dropped his new jacket on the hanger by the door of his shared apartment and stepped inside. The door shut quietly behind him as he walked further into the dimly lit room, spotting the dark mass of a shape huddled in the same spot it had been in when he left that evening. Stifling a rumble of laughter, Steve made his way across the room and paused in front of the shape, blocking the buzzing television from view.

“Move.” The gruff voice drifted from beneath the heap of blankets, and it was music to Steve’s ears.

“I’m gonna take a shower, Buck,” Steve said casually, folding his arms across his chest. There was a moment of calculated silence before the television was switched off. Steve swallowed thickly, his tongue suddenly beginning to feel heavy in his mouth. “You wanna join me?”

The lump started to move, becoming a more discernible shape until Bucky Barnes was standing in front of Steve with his wild hair sticking up everywhere as he met Steve’s gaze with his own cool blue stare. A sly grin tugged at the ex-assassin’s mouth and Steve was suddenly very much looking forward to the events of that shower as his fella grabbed his wrist and dragged him off towards their shared bathroom.

All thoughts of his photo shoot subsided as he lost himself in the mouth and body of his lover, his mind completely blank to the magazine issues with his face on it that were soon going to be stocked all over stores for Bucky himself to stumble across in only a few weeks time. 


	2. Booky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve isn’t always around, and sometimes Bucky needs to blow off some steam. 
> 
> —x—x—
> 
> Aka, Bucky has more magazines than he knows what to do with... And then he knows exactly what to do with them. 
> 
> —x—x—
> 
> Featuring! 
> 
> A deeply embarrassed Bucky Barnes  
> An old box that everyone probably knows the contents of  
> And a head-over-heels Steve Rogers!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This didn’t exactly turn out how I wanted it but I might update it again later on, we’ll see how I feel lol

Bucky had known that Steve was modeling for magazine covers, but holy shit.

_Holy shit._

After finding himself in Steve’s favorite chair with a magazine of all things in his hands when he had gone out to buy himself a candy bar, Bucky knew that this couldn’t be a one-time gig. Steve was gorgeous. Of course, Bucky had always known that, and he was in no way surprised by the God-like figure on the cover of these pages, but it was still breathtaking.

The real thing was sitting just across the room. Bucky had smuggled this thing into the house under his shirt, but he couldn’t help sneaking a peek once he sat down, stealing his fella’s favorite spot from right under his nose, and yet the blonde hardly spared him a glance. He was too busy scrolling through one of those stupid smart-devices that were taking the world by storm. He was always looking at one, and it was driving Bucky insane.

He squinted at the man from the other side of the room, sliding the magazine back up his shirt and scowling. If Steve wasn’t going to pay attention, he’d see how Steve liked it if he ignored him. He grabbed the nearest device, which happened to be a tablet he didn’t hate, solely for the fact that he was able to watch Netflix on it and Netflix had great documentaries. He opened it and stared at the home screen for a second or two, sulking.

What did Steve even do on his devices?

Exhaling all of his frustration in a sharp breath, Bucky got to his feet with the tablet clutched tightly in his hands and headed off towards his room, bare feet slapping against the floor at a rather petty volume. He heard Steve shift in his seat, but he didn’t look back until he had reached their shared room. He peeked back from the doorway to find Steve having tossed the phone aside and let his head loll back against the couch, eyes fluttering shut.

Slight guilt caused Bucky’s shoulders to slump. It was clear that his friend was exhausted. After all, he was the one who did all of the work when it came to earning a living. Missions were tough, and a lot of the time, Steve came back injured. Bucky ordered the food, and cleaned, and he was attempting to teach himself to cook. But other than that, he didn’t do much else. He figured it was taking its toll on the supersoldier.

Closing the door quietly, Bucky buried himself under their blankets and pressed his face into Steve’s pillow, inhaling the scent of his lover, before he settled down and turned on the last nature documentary he had been watching.

Perhaps he could get Steve to shift his career onto a safer, more… modeling-based path.

It might be for the best.

  
—x—x—

  
Over the next half a year of Bucky’s life, he had gained a larger collection of magazines that Steve did not know he owned. It was a little embarrassing, but Bucky was fiercely protective of his mint-condition copies of these. He told himself that he was keeping them for a day when they might hold even more value than they probably already did, but that definitely wasn’t true. Steve was still going on missions in between his gigs as the face of these production companies, and when he was gone, Bucky often found himself looking at a few of the photographs more than he thought he was going to.

The day he was caught red-handed was the same day that Steve was getting back from one of the most dangerous missions in a while— one that had required him to stay away for a long two weeks. Hardly any time to call between work and the little sleep he was getting left Bucky a little homesick, even though technically he was the one still in the apartment. He figured it was because Steve was more of a home to him than anyone else. Late night problems reminded him of another less innocent reason that he missed his fella, but that was only natural. Embarrassing, maybe, but natural.

“Hey Buck, can I move this box in the closet? I don’t want to leave my bag layin’ around, and I can’t fit it in there without movin’ the box.” Steve’s voice drifted from through the opened door to their bedroom, and, without thinking, Bucky gave the go-ahead through a grunt of approval, shoving a Dorito into his mouth and switching the channel. There was a slight rustle of movement in the room, when Steve called, “What’s even in this box, anyway? I haven’t seen it before.”

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks. Bucky’s face went bright red and he choked on the chip in his throat, scrambling from his chair. The remote hit the floor, batteries flying out as the backing fell off. He made a break for the bedroom, automatic tears flooding from his tear ducts as a reaction to the choking. He coughed into his elbow a few times, and suddenly Steve was at his side, patting his back gently.

“Alright, you little sneak.”

Fuck.

“You gonna be alright?” Steve asked, warmth and amusement in his voice, and Bucky forced himself to look up at the blurry figure, wiping his eyes clear. Steve was biting his lip to keep his smile from taking over his entire face, but Bucky really, really wished he wouldn’t, because it was extremely distracting. He nodded begrudgingly in answer of the previous question, averting his eyes. Steve chuckled.

“So… You wanna talk about these?” He reached into the room and pulled a box out, dropping it at Bucky’s feet. The ex-assassin looked down at the embarrassingly large collection of magazines with Steve’s face on them. Then he slowly looked back up and shook his head no. Steve looked like a kid in a candy store, his smile was so big.

“Come on, Buck, you really think I’m just gonna let this slide? This is adorable.”

“Sweet Jesus, please stop.” Bucky put his head in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut, but Steve just laughed.

“Buckyyyy,” he insisted, pulling him into an unwanted hug that was not returned. “If you wanted pictures of me you could’ve just asked.” Bucky nearly choked again, shoving his metal fist into his mouth as his face heated up once more and he buried it into Steve’s chest.

“What? What did I say?” Steve asked, backing off a little. “What’s got you so wound up?” An awkward smile settled on Bucky’s lips, and he looked down at the box for a second, thinking hard.

“Well, Stevie… We’re both men, I guess you can handle it.” Bucky sucked in a breath, trying to calm the furious blush on his cheeks. Steve just raised his eyebrows, a ghost of a smile still on his face, and God, Bucky wished he was anywhere else right now. He was already semi-hard at the thought of what he was about to tell Steve, and Steve had been away for so long, and he just wanted Steve instead of a fucking picture.

“So… You’re not around all the time, and I—“ Bucky was cut off by a spurt of laughter, and he silenced his partner with a look that could kill. Steve shoved his fist into his mouth, cheeks slightly pink, eyes as bright as the sun itself, and Bucky felt himself starting to blush again. “You’re not around all the time,” Bucky said again, through gritted teeth, “and sometimes a guy’s gotta take care of his business. Before you go in yukkin’ it up, I didn’t get them for that, it just happened.” Bucky tore his gaze away now, kicking the box away. “You can throw them out now, I don’t care.” He stormed back into the bedroom, throwing the door shut, but Steve caught it, following him inside.

“Aww, come on, Bucky. You’re too sweet on me,” Steve insisted, gathering him up before he could bury himself in blankets. Bucky pressed reluctantly back against his fella, lacing his flesh fingers together with Steve’s and allowing a begrudging smile to grace his features.

“Damn straight,” he mumbled, turning around within his fella’s arms to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “Way too fuckin’ sweet. You remember that next time you’re sassin’ me.” Steve chuckled against his mouth, providing a much softer kiss. Bucky sighed into it, letting go of Steve’s hand in favor of wrapping his arms around his neck.

“They want me to go shirtless next time,” Steve murmured against Bucky’s mouth, lips curling into a smirk. “Said it would be great for sales. What do you think? One of the hair stylists told me I was a looker.”

“Well he wasn’t wrong, but he’d better not be your stylist anymore,” Bucky retorted, tugging sharply on Steve’s hair and earning a sharp gasp as Steve’s eyes fluttered shut. “You should take the job. It’s safer than your stupid missions. Plus, you’ll come home quicker..” Bucky shrugged. “Just somethin’ to consider, Stevie.”

“But won’t it bother you?” Steve asked, and together they backed towards the bed, pausing just before it. “Won’t it bother you that complete strangers might be using it the same way you did?” He tugged at Bucky’s drawstrings, watching as they came undone, and Bucky sighed when Steve’s hand dipped below his waistline, brushing the area that had been keen for some attention for quite a while now.

“It’ll bother me every damn day, punk,” he said a little breathlessly, curling inwards against Steve with a soft groan when he curled his wrist just the right way, wrapping a free arm around Bucky’s waist to ease him back against the mattress. “But look at where we are right now. S’long as I’ve got this and they don’t, I think I can live with it.” A small moan passed through his parted lips when Steve gave a little special attention to his tip, before removing his hand so that the sweatpants could be discarded all together.

That afternoon, Steve kissed Bucky like there was no tomorrow.

Then, with a rapidly beating heart and a gorgeous smile on his face that was hidden away from all of the cameras, he fucked Bucky like there was no today.

A hop, skip, and a week later, Bucky came home from the store to find a familiar box on their bed. Steve wasn’t at home that day, but Bucky knew that was who left it because of the messy writing of an artist that read his name scrawled across the top.

When he opened to box, he promised himself that he was going to smack Steve senseless when he got home from his latest photo shoot. But not before he kissed him senseless for the stupid magazine filled with full shots and some outtakes, most of which featured Steve’s smiling face.

“That idiot,” Bucky grumbled, holding the unique edition in his hands with a certain delicacy.

When Steve asked if he liked it later that night, Bucky didn’t even think he had to answer. He just threw an arm around his fella and hugged him tight.

And that was that. 

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea how modeling works when it comes to this stuff lol don’t @ me


End file.
